Robert Crais - L.A. Requiem

Dolan said, “So if you're looking for people with a grudge, you're gonna have to start with a couple of thousand cops.”

“I don't believe that.”

“I'm talking hate , buddy. They got cops still around who hate Pike for what happened to Wozniak.”

“Think about what you're saying, Dolan. You believe some random cop has been carrying a grudge so big he's willing to kill an innocent man like Dersh just to set up Pike?”

“ You say innocent, and this is your theory, not mine. If one of these cowboys thinks Dersh is a serial killer, maybe he figures it's a no-brainer sacrifice. And if it isn't a cop, you're probably talking about one of the two or three hundred assholes that Pike arrested. That's still a pretty big suspect pool.”

I spread my hands. “I can't go there, Dolan. There are so many variables here that if I try to deal with all of them I'll just sit home and wait for Krantz to crack the case.”

“Guess that wouldn't work for you.”

“Does it work for you?”

She smiled. “No. Christ, that sun is hot.”

Dolan took off the blazer and draped it over one of the deck chairs. Her Sig was in a clip holster on the right hip of her jeans, and her tanned arms looked strong. The white shirt was so bright it made me squint.

I said, “I've got to stay with what's in front of me, and that's Wozniak and Karen Garcia, and how they all came to meet. I need to find out everything I can about Wozniak and DeVille, and what happened in that room. I want the shooting team report, the incident report, and whatever Internal Affairs had.”

She was shaking her head before I finished. “I can tell you right now you can forget the IAG documents. They're under seal. You'd need a court order.”

“I need Wozniak's personnel file and DeVille's case file. I'm going to talk to Joe and see what he says.”

“Man, you don't want too much, do you?”

“What else can I do?”

She took another deep pull on the cigarette. “Nothing, I guess. I'll make some calls for you. It might take a while.”

“I appreciate your doing this for me, Samantha.”

She rested her elbows on the rail, looking out at the canyon. “I've got nothing better to do. You know what Bishop has me doing? Due-diligence calls on last year's robbery cases. You know what that is?”

“No.”

“We gotta go through unsolved cases every three months just to keep the cases alive. You call the detective of record, ask if he's learned anything new, he says no, and you log it. A fucking clerk could do it. And every time I see Bishop, he shakes his head and walks away.”

I didn't know what to say.

She finished the cigarette and dropped it in the juice glass.

“I'm sorry, Samantha.”

She looked at me. “You've got nothing to be sorry about.”

“I jammed you into coming across about the Task Force, just like I'm jamming you now. I apologize for doing that. I wouldn't've told Krantz that I knew about it, or that we'd had that conversation in your car that morning.”

“Everything always comes out, buddy. I'm on thin ice now, but if I'd lied that day and they'd found out, I'd be underwater for sure. Like I said, maybe if I kiss enough ass, Bishop will let me stick around.”

I nodded.

She glanced over. “I feel like a damned lush.”

“Because you had a couple this morning?”

“Because I want one right now.”

She stared at me some more.

“I didn't take the drink because of this shit with the job, you dumb ass.”

I looked at her, thinking that she didn't need to come to my house, that she could've called. I thought how she'd rung the bell just a few minutes after Lucy had gone.

Dolan was leaning on the rail, her back stretched long and taut, the white tee shirt pulled tight. She looked good. She saw me looking and shifted her weight so that her ass swayed. I looked away, but it wasn't easy. I thought about Lucy.

“Elvis.”

I shook my head.

Dolan stepped close and put her arms around my neck and kissed me. I could taste the cigarettes and the tequila and the mangoes, and I wanted to kiss her back. Maybe, for a moment, I did.

Then I took her arms from around my neck.

“I can't, Samantha.”

Dolan took a fast step back. She went a very bright red, then turned and ran back through my house. A moment later, I heard the Beemer rev to life and pull away. I touched my lips, and stood on the deck for a long time, thinking.

Then I went inside and phoned Charlie Bauman.

Charlie listened without comment as I told him why I wanted to speak with Pike.

When I was done, he said, “Visiting starts at ten unless they're bringing him over to Men's Central this morning. Let me call over there to find out, then I'll get back to you.”

The cat came downstairs to the landing and looked at me while I waited. He went into the guest room, then came back into the living room, where he looked at me again.

I said, “She's gone.”

He fell onto his side and licked his penis. Cats.

I couldn't get Dolan out of my head, and having her there made me feel a guilt unlike any I had known since the first time I killed a man. Dolan was leaning on the rail, and then she was pressed against me. I could still taste her cigarette. I went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water, but it didn't wash away the taste. The love I felt for Lucy flared into something white and fierce, and I wished she were here. I wanted to hold her, and tell her that I loved her, and hear her say the same back. I wanted her caress, and the comfort of her love. Most of all I wanted to stop wanting Samantha Dolan, but I didn't know how. It made me feel disloyal.

I stared out the kitchen window for a time, then washed the glass, put it away, and forced myself to think about what I had to do.

Charlie called back four minutes later, and told me to meet him in the Parker Center lobby at eleven.

I used the time until then to look for Trudy, calling the Department of Motor Vehicles for a transfer and registration check on all new minivans sold in the past two months, sorted by color. I told them I was only interested in black. We got twenty-eight hits. I asked if they could fax the information to me, but was told no, they'd have to mail it. The government in action. After that, I spent almost two hours on the phone talking to the FBI, the United States Marshals, and the L.A. County Sheriffs. Most of that time was spent on hold, but I learned that no current model year black minivans had been stolen in the past three months. I arranged to have the names Trudy and Matt run through the law enforcement agencies' VICAP and NCIC computers, which show outstanding fugitive warrants from around the country, and also contain a database of missing or abducted children. When they asked me why I wanted this, I didn't tell them about Pike; I told them I was working for the parents. Everyone was more cooperative that way, but everyone told me the same thing: With no last name, the odds of getting any useful information were slim.

I drove to Parker early, scanning the smokers out on the walk as I turned in for Dolan. She wasn't among them, and I wondered if she was getting the files I needed, or if she would. And then I thought that maybe I was looking for another reason, and the guilt burned like bitter coffee.

Even though I was early, Charlie Bauman was already in the lobby, waiting. He said, “You look like hell. What's wrong?”

“Not a goddamned thing.”

“That's just what I need. Attitude.”

An overweight cop with a red face led us back along the corridor to the interview room. Charlie and I sat without speaking for the five minutes it took them to bring Joe. He was wearing the blue jumpsuit, but he'd rolled the sleeves. The veins in his wrists and forearms bulged as if he'd been exercising when they'd come for him.